


a little room of shadow

by void_glitter



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kind of an au?, Loneliness, Magic, Shadows - Freeform, Sort Of, anyway here's this, how do you... tag., implications of, references to 'the most dangerous game... night!' specifically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_glitter/pseuds/void_glitter
Summary: There’s not a lot to do in the shadow realm.





	a little room of shadow

**Author's Note:**

> so! my first fic on here in years! it's kind of a mess and will effectively be an au in less than 24 hours but do i care? nah! take some vaguely magical lesbians, shadow rooms, and implications of adopted family.

There’s not a lot to do in the shadow realm, Lena realizes very quickly. 

She awakens to her new surroundings with more of a slide than a jolt.

A small, dark room. It’s not tiny or cramped, but there’s not much more space than needed to walk around a bit. The walls are solid wood. The floor is carpeted, but not the nice kind, like in McDuck Manor. It’s all rough and scratchy on Lena’s feathers. It makes her itch. 

There’s enough light, or something similar, to see where she’s going, but no more. She’s sure the darkness will damage her eyes soon enough. 

There’s not a lot to do, at first. 

Her phone, a gift from Webby shortly before the incident in the Other Bin, is almost entirely useless. It’ll turn on, providing light, but nothing on it will open save her camera roll. 

She spends a lot of her time looking at pictures.

She does a lot to combat boredom and madness. She walks in circles. She drums on the walls. She sings. She traces fancy sigils on the walls, ones for protection, health, safety. She doesn’t know if they’ll work in here, or if she’s even doing them right. 

She talks to her pictures, on occasion. It probably makes her sound insane, but it helps keep her mind off the silence. 

She talks to her favorite picture of Webby, one where she’s posed in a dramatic mimicry of Mr. McDuck’s portrait behind her, a pen held high as a sword and her hand on her hip. She’s grinning so wildly that even looking at the picture weeks later, Lena’s chest clenches. 

She tells her about concerts she’s been to. About breaking into abandoned buildings. About the handful of times she was allowed to meet other members of the de Spell family. “I think you’d like them.” She says, looking down at Webby’s eyes in the photo. They seem to glisten. “They’re not all bad. Not like her.”

Lena realizes early on that this is the first time she’s ever been alone with her own mind. No Aunt Magica plastered to her back, no shadowy whispers in her ears, no revenge plot to follow. Her mind is her own, for the first time in her life. 

She gives the darkness a trembling smile. 

“Y'know what, Aunt Magica? This place might suck, but at least you’re not here." 

  
Two weeks or so into her time in the shadows, she hears something. Something that isn’t her, that isn’t just her own breathing or her own footsteps or her own voice. 

It’s music. 

Muffled, dull, coming through the walls, but it’s music.

She abandons her phone on the ground and shuffles closer to the wall, pressing her ear to the wood. She needs to know where it’s coming from. It’s the first break in routine, and she needs to know what it is. Her fingers press into the wood, almost willing it to be thinner, so she can hear it. 

And suddenly, like a burst through static on the radio– 

”–ank you,“ Webby says, her voice sad and almost broken sounding. Lena’s heart beats so fast it hurts. She can hear her best friend! "I feel a little better now." 

Lena hiccups once, tears suddenly springing to life in her eyes, running down her cheeks, cutting trails through her feathers. "Webby,” She whispers, closing her eyes in delight. She lets Webby’s voice sit in her mind like melting chocolate on her tongue. 

The music stops. It was a piano, presumably the one Lena’s seen in the mansion a few times. Whoever is playing pushes the bench out, coughs into their hand. 

“That’s good, I hoped it would help. I haven’t played for anyone in a while.” Lena’s heart tightens like a vice. That’s Scrooge! God, he sounds so much less broken than she last heard him, on the day of the eclipse. He sounds like himself again. “Now come on, let's get you to bed. Beakley’ll have my head if you’re up much later." 

Webby laughs, in the way that makes Lena’s chest tighten and her stomach twist and flutter in the most painfully pleasant way. She clutches her chest, balling her shirt up in her fingers tightly. She misses being the cause of that laugh, she misses seeing how Webby’s eyes scrunch up and how her hands flap with her giggles. 

Lena slumps against the wall, her own small laugh caught in her throat as she whimpers out little cries into her free hand. Scrooge and Webby are still talking, much less seriously and much less distinct, and every little word is cherished if not understood. She missed hearing voices that weren’t just her own. 

Slowly, though, they begin to fade entirely, only snippets of sounds being intelligible, the rest just staticky nonsense. She presses further into the wall, staring in terror at the wood. 

"No!” She yells, so loud in her own small space that it hurts her ears. “No, please, come back!” She slams a hand against the wall. “Webby! Scrooge! Please, I’m right here, come back!" 

No answer. The voices become entirely mute and she screams, long and loud, banging on the wall with her palms until she catches one of them on a rough part of the wood. 

She hisses, pulling her hand away from the wall, momentarily distracted. In the dimness, she can see there’s blood on her hand.

She cut herself. 

The tears return and she wails again, falling to her knees on the carpet. She shrieks like a banshee, throws a fit vicious enough to put Donald to shame. 

She hits the ground and screams and cries and growls, until there’s nothing left of her rage and loneliness but shaking, exhausted muscles, weak from weeks of underuse, an aching hand, and a headache. 

She curls up in a corner and hugs her legs. 

She wants to go home. 

 

There’s an upside to the situation, she learns later on. She can hear a lot more now. If she sits near the wall and listens close, she can hear what’s going on outside. 

She spends less time brewing in silence and more trying to figure out what she’s missing.  

 _The McDuck Family of Weirdos_  seems to be still firmly together, she learns. The boys and Donald moved back to the manor, judging by how often she hears all four of them. 

She hears a lot of mundane conversations– Webby talking to Mrs. Beakley about schoolwork, the boys bickering, Scrooge muttering about meetings. 

There are bright spots, though– stuff like Game Night, which has something to do with Webby arguing with Dewey, Scrooge being too enthusiastic, and tiny creatures of some kind…? She honestly doesn’t know if she should question it. 

She listens in on proper adventures, too. They make her nervous, with all the yelling, guttural sounds of monsters, death-traps springing. They find artifacts, some she knows nothing about, some she heard Magica mention, some she’s read about herself. 

She worries about one of them getting hurt. Webby and Scrooge are her main concern, but honestly, any of them would be terrible. They all have shown her a great deal of kindness, and… well, she cares if people die, okay? 

Worrying about them leads her to thinking about how to get back to them. She knows she’s connected to Webby, that she should be attached to her somehow, but she isn’t sure how. Ironically, true magic has never been her strong suit. 

One day, when Lena’s listening to Webby listen to music and work on her board, there’s a sound like ripping fabric, and the room Lena’s trapped in shakes and rumbles like an office building in an earthquake.

She yells and she goes down, falling onto her tail, then her back as she tries to get back to her feet. It can’t last more than a few seconds, but it’s enough to bewilder her, leaving her shaking and on the floor when it stops.  

"Oh,” Webby says, sounding as if she’s on the verge of tears. “My bracelet’s fraying." 

Lena sits up like a shot. The bracelet! The friendship bracelet! That’s what she’s anchored to! 

Of course, that doesn’t surprise her, now that she thinks of it. The damn thing was a hive of accidental magic, weaved into the floss used for it like it was a physical thing. Of course, when she got blasted here, she’d latch onto that. 

She giggles a little, staring at the wall. 

" _Friendship is the greatest magic of all_ ,” She mumbles to herself, thinking of Webby’s earnest voice, that night in the bin. 

That was when Lena started to really realize that Webby was too good to lose, that maybe Aunt Magica’s plan wasn’t worth it, that maybe, she could have this.

 

After learning she’s attached to the bracelet, Lena focuses entirely on trying to manifest herself in the physical world. 

She has no idea how to do it, at first, which scares her. The bracelet is supposedly fraying, which means she might not have much time. 

She feels angry at herself, for never listening to Aunt Magica’s lessons on magic, on shadow traveling, on everything like that. They could be useful right about now. But, no, she decided not to listen, and so she’s stuck with her own very limited knowledge of magic. 

So, she takes it slowly. 

At first, she just sits in the dark, legs crossed, a hand on her chest where her amulet would be. She meditates, almost, evening her breathing, relaxing, soothing her nerves about the current situation. It’s the most peaceful she’s been here. 

As soon as she’s completely calm, she moves onto the second part of her plan. She resumes her place on the floor, still holding her chest, and she visualizes Webby’s room.

It takes a few tries. A few days, maybe. 

And then, just when hope is running thinner and thinner, like unraveling thread...

...She tries once more, and finds herself sitting right behind Webby, in her bed. Just like she wanted. 

She laughs a little at the sight of her best friend. She’s right there! And Lena only feels a little terrible from using that kind of magic. She’s only a _little_ dizzy, a _little_ achy, a _little_ sore around her temples.

She reaches out, wanting to touch the girl in front of her.

And her hand is black. A _shadow_. 

She hisses as if burned at the sight. For a brief moment, all she can see is Magica’s clawed hand, and that scares her. That hand can never, ever, _ever_ touch Webby.

Okay, no touching, she thinks. She clears her throat. “Webby?” She asks. 

Webby, in front of her, browsing through her phone, doesn’t respond. It’s then Lena realizes that she can’t hear her. Doesn’t even know she’s there. 

Tears spring to Lena’s eyes, and she scans the room. There has to be something she can do, something to get Webby’s attention. Anything. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, a scant few feet away. If Lena can just.. reach out, and try to move it, maybe she can knock it over. That’ll get Webby’s attention, right? 

It takes a tremendous effort to move as a shadow, Lena quickly realizes. Her feathers feel as if they’re made of steel, with how heavy they feel. (She thinks this, even though she has been rendered flat, smooth, and all-black because of being a shadow. That’s just too much to think about right now.)

She has no clue how Magica was so mobile in her shadow form. Practice, maybe? Necessity? 

She does her best, though. She reaches out both hands, as far as she can, stretching, stretching, until she can touch the shadow of the glass. She even cheers a little for herself once the effort is done. 

Gritting her teeth so hard it hurts, she moves onto the next hard task. Pushing the glass over. An action that would be simple if she was still in her physical form. But, no. She’s stuck as a flat shadow, no more capable of simple tasks than a cartoon. 

She wraps her hand around the glasses' shadow and tries to just flip it. It shouldn’t be that hard. But it is, goddammit. She only succeeds in nearly falling over every time she tries to push it and loses her balance. She’s surprised Webby hasn’t noticed her.  

“Come _on_ , Lena,” She mutters to herself, swiping again at the glass. "You've done harder things!"

She’s getting tired, both emotionally and physically. Her limbs are getting heavier.

By some _miracle_ , the glass wobbles. It doesn’t fall over, but it trembles and makes a sound. 

Webby looks up and turns to her nightstand, confusion blooming in her eyes. “What was that…?” She asks no one in particular. She narrows her eyes at the glass, the water inside still moving. “Did one of the Gyropuddlians get out of the game board?” Her voice falls off into a mumble. She’s still looking. 

So Lena starts moving. She waves her hands, and then both of her arms. She stares pleadingly at Webby, hoping she’ll see her. 

And… she does. 

Webby turns and looks at her shadow. Her eyes narrow critically, like they do when she’s researching or trying to figure out a riddle or puzzle, and then widen, becoming shiny, almost starry.  

“Lena?” She asks, softly. She raises a hand, to touch the wall where Lena’s shadowy form resides. 

Lena’s tears finally spill over and she nods. “Webby!” She says, voice breaking in the middle. 

Webby’s brows furrow in the middle. “Are you trying to talk? I… I can’t hear you.” Lena’s heart sinks. Dammit! She supposes her disappointment shows, because Webby smiles and shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m good at charades, remember?” She says, with that sweetness that Lena has missed. “Are… are you my shadow, now?”

Lena nods aggressively, flashing a thumbs-up for clarity. She raises her hand too, and points to her wrist. Webby looks confused for a moment, before looking at her own wrist. 

“Oh! My friendship bracelet?” She asks for clarity. Another thumbs-up. “You’re… connected to my bracelet?" 

Another nod, this time harder, and two thumbs-up. Webby goes fully starry-eyed in admiration. 

"You’ve been here the whole time?” she asks. Lena shrugs. “You’re not sure?” She nods. “Oh, okay. Can… do you know how to get out of… wherever you’ve been?" 

Lena shakes her head, waving her hands as if to say "no clue”. Webby blows a raspberry in annoyance. “Well, that kind of sucks, doesn’t it?" 

Lena laughs, and so does Webby. "I wish I could hear you laugh,” The younger girl confesses, moving to sit cross-legged. Lena’s face feels warm, and for a minute, they sit in a comfortable silence. If it wasn’t for her place in Webby’s shadow, it would feel just like they were having a sleepover.

All of a sudden, a wave of fatigue as strong as a physical force makes Lena slump. If she could, she'd fall over. Oh, that feels  _terrible_. Webby’s smile fades as she sees her shiver, lean back as if falling. “Lena? Are you okay?” She asks, concern coloring her voice. “Are you hurt?" 

Lena shakes her head, before gesturing weakly with one hand to herself, and then to the bed. Webby’s brows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

Lena groans. She doesn’t have enough energy to properly communicate what’s wrong… She scans the room again, trying to find something to help demonstrate. Books, shelves, clothes, assorted weapons, papers… nothing to help. 

The wave hits her again. She has to close her eyes against it. Webby looks a little panicked. "Lena? Lena, what’s _wrong_?" 

Lena shakes her head, rubs her face with a hand even if it’s hard. She points to herself and the bed again, with a little more force. 

Blessed recognition flares in Webby’s eyes. "You’re tired?” Nod, nod. “That… that makes sense. You’re using magic, right? Magic can make people really tired sometimes, at least from what I’ve read. I’d guess manifesting yourself as a shadow takes a lot of energy, or whatever.” She clasps her hands on her lap, twiddles her thumbs for a minute. “Does… does that mean you’ll have to go away?" 

Lena pauses at that. Does it? She’ll probably have to go back to the dark room for a little while, to regain her strength… 

So, she nods. Webby frowns. All Lena wants to do is reach out and smooth her sadness away. She just wants to touch her. Hug her. Brush her fingers through her hair. Hold her hand.  _Talk_ to her. 

Webby lets out a long sigh. "If you need to go, that’s okay. But… can you promise me you’ll come back?” She asks, looking Lena in the eyes. For a vague moment, Lena wonders what she looks like. “I miss you a lot, Lena." 

Lena smiles, and nods her head. Webby grins, despite the tears in her eyes. "Great! Then, um… see you later, I guess?” She laughs a little. Lena’s shadowy heart beats faster, dispelling some of the fatigue. She loves that laugh. 

Webby shuffles up on her knees and puts her hand against the wall. Lena raises her own hand, and for a second, they can almost pretend they’re touching. 

“‘Bye for now, Lena.” Webby says. “I’m gonna find a way to help you out.” Lena bobs her head in agreement, waves her hand towards herself as if to say “me too”. She waves again, in farewell. 

She does it just in time, too, because another strike of fatigue hits her, and everything goes black. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! tell me what you think and how i could've made it better! i previously posted this on my tumblr but i edited it up a lot and reposted it here. (speaking of, come to my duck tumblr @yourefinallygonnasellus and yell at me about ducks thanks)


End file.
